


Fight scene practicing

by PurrJ



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24945160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrJ/pseuds/PurrJ
Summary: I just practice writing fight scenes here, idk
Kudos: 1





	Fight scene practicing

There stood a woman. She was tall, and had dark brown hair with lavender eyes. She wore a heavy overcoat that was black in color. She had a hat that was also black, with a white ribbon going around it. Her pants were also black, and the boots she had on were similar. Her skin was a dark brown, and she was muscular. She stared down at her opponent, a man with tanned skin. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as she was. His hair was black and his eyes were grey. He wore armour, and wielded a sword. "So, you're the one they fear?" He asked. She said nothing "Well, it's about time you were shown you're place" and he charged at her, sword in hand.

She moved out of the way swiftly, and brought out her longsword. She swung it at him, piercing the armour immediately. Blood trickled down from the wound, which was on his shoulder, but he kept at it. She moved out of the way once again, swinging again, but he managed to stumble out of the way first. He tried going in for a bit, and landed it, severing her arm from the elbow down. At first he was happy, but then that joy changed to fear as he saw what she was doing. Her arm was begging to boil down to a black goo, and the stub where she lost it began to bubble up. The bubbles began to turn to the same color as her flesh, and slowly began to grow. Her arm was regrown almost immediately. H

felt his blood run cold as he realized that this WASN'T a mortal he was fighting. She then swiftly glided forward, stabbing the arm of the shoulder she had previously damaged. He began to feel delirious from the blood loss, stumbling and tripping around, but he kept at it. He attempted to lift his sword but was met with hers going right through his chest plate. He stumbled back, gasping for air, as blood bubbles emerged from his mouth, as he stared at this woman- no- this _monster_ in his final moments. "So, you REALLY thought you could win this" She asked. No. Stated. It was a statement. He didn't respond. Couldn't respond. She stared down at him. She lifted her sword and placed it on his shoulder. The non damaged one. "You truly were mistaken" she then sliced off his arm from the shoulder, so it was almost flat, leaving only a stub behind. He tried screaming, but it just came out as gurgles. She then went to his left leg, and, right above the ankle, cut that limb off as well. "You truly are pathetic. Coming out here, with full belief that you could beat me given my reputation". That's where it cut deep.

Because he knew she was right. He knew, I'm the end, he wouldn't if had a chance. Then she put the longsword away and reached into her pocket. "You'd think you'd have SOME sort of modern weapon, but it seems you wanted to do it the traditional way" she stated, "But it wouldn't of made a difference in the end". He knew she was right. He knew everything she was saying was correct. She was _taunting_ him. And he deserved it. "This may or may not kill you. I'm assuming it won't" she said, pulling out a handgun. He couldn't tell what it was, due to everything blurring because of blood loss, but he assumed it was a Glock due to the general outline. "So I suggest you count your blessings" she said. Except this time, it wasn't with her mouth. It was inside his head. Inside of _him._ She was inside, and he wanted her out, out, out, _out, OUT-_ a bang. She had shot him. Directly in the left eye. But it hadn't gone feel enough to pierce his brain, just enough to destroy his eye. "May this serve as a reminder not to try stupid tricks like this again" she said, from _inside._ He passed out.

He woke up. He was in a hospital bed, but he couldn't feel his arm. His leg. Some of his face. Then he remembered. And he screamed. He could only see her face. Her sword. Her _gun-_ "JASON!" he stopped. He stared at the doctor that said his name. "You need to calm down, okay?" He felt pained. Not as bad as the pain during the fight, but it was still pain. He layed down. He had went to earn glory, but had lost several limbs instead. And he deserved it. He let himself be blinded by the reward of victory that he didn't think about the penalty of loosing. He lated there, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't ever going to try for glory, for victory again. He wasn't going to let this happen again. He wasn't going to loose, because he would never participate.


End file.
